


What Are You Doing Here?

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkwardness, Dorks in Love, Lots of reading, M/M, Neighbours, Teenagers, and staring, sorry for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard likes to sit on the bench in front of his house to read. He likes being alone, too.<br/>But things change when he gets a new neighbour, who apparently decided that the bench opposite of Gerard's is his place from now on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are You Doing Here?

***  
Gerard's POV  
***

Hey, my name's Gerard and I'm probably the weirdest guy you'll ever meet in your entire life. And no, not the good kind, the "he's always fun to be around"-weird, I mean the "what the fuck is wrong with this kid"-weird.

Ok, so I'm 16 years old, doing shit in school and living in the cellar. That might seem like a weird concept to you, but I'm used to it. I even begged to move down there when my parents bought the new house.

I'm not really keen on going out or meeting my "friends" as my parents like to call them. I'm quite content with sitting around all day, either drawing, reading or listening to music.

My dad used to force me to go outside, even threatening to burn all my stuff if I don't oblige. What should I say? I can be really stubborn. And even though I knew he'd never have done that, I then always grabbed my things and sat on the bench opposite of our house, continuing whatever I had done before I got kicked out. I don't wanna upset him, you know?

***

I began coming out to sit on the bench regularly - and voluntarily - about a year ago, shortly after we moved in. My parents are happy with me going outside, even though they were having something else in mind. But they think it's at least a start. They don't know I've fallen in love with this special place; I won't leave here too soon.

It's very peaceful out here, not many people come by this small alleyway. I think most citizens of my small town don't even know it exists. Fine with me, I like being left alone and it's nice here I have to admit.

In winter it's actually warmer outside than in my room (the only functioning radiator in there only vaguely heats up the air in like a ten-inch radius around it, so if I wanna be warm I have to either sit in front of it all the time or wear five jumpers at once) and in summer there's always a cool breeze blowing through the small alley.

Some might think it's boring out here - only seeing the light blue of my house all day - but it's really not, it's better than the empty grey walls of my bedroom (I'm not allowed to put up posters in there).

All in all I'm really happy here, where no one can annoy me.

***

Everything changes this one day in March. I just recovered from the flu and I wasn't able to go outside for the last ten days or so. Thank God I'm not sick often, I hate it. I have to rely on everyone and keep them from doing what they want. Well, at least my brother...

Dad's at work most of the time and Mum doesn't really care. Not that she doesn't love us, she does - I think -, she's just tired a lot, always has been. I think she might be depressed, but she never talks to me about it and she won't go see a doctor. She just doesn't wanna be helped.

So this leaves Mikey to look after me when I'm sick. He's the best little brother anyone could wish for; he makes me lots of soup and tea and kinda forces me to stay in his warm room, while he sleeps on the couch. I really appreciate what he does for me, even though I think it's a bit over the top - it's just me after all. Nevertheless I love my baby brother more than anything.

***

When I have been without fever for two days, Mikey finally allows me to go outside again and I immediately grab the book from my bedside table and head for my bench.

I've been sitting out here in the mild spring air (with a jumper, thanks to overprotective Mikey) for about twenty minutes, when I hear something rustle. I look up and see someone sitting on the bench opposite of me.

That's not fair, no one's supposed to sit there, this is my spot, my not-so-secret hiding place form the world. What the fuck is he doing here? That's the first thing that shoots through my head.

The second is that he's not that unsympathetic; he's reading a Batman comic after all, so he can't be truly evil, like I presumed before.

The third - and probably most important - thing I think of is this: he's fucking hot. Like hot hot. With black hair and matching clothing and red eyeliner and piercings and... oh shit, he's _really_ good-looking. So much so that I might forgive him for intruding my private zone.

I notice I've stared at him for quite some time - maybe a bit too long - so I draw my attention back to the Stephen King novel I'm reading at the moment.

But even though King's a genius and writes oh so well and it's the showdown and it's so very thrilling... I can't concentrate anymore. My mind wanders back to the guy on the bench opposite of me, the guy with the lip ring and the dyed hair, the guy with the Misfits t-shirt, the guy who seems way too cool to be reading a Batman comic, the guy who'll notice my creepy staring if I don't stop anytime soon.

But he's so good-looking; hair short on one side and falling into his face on the other, big eyes framed by perfect eyebrows, lip ring glistening in the sun, tongue darting out to play with it when he seems particularly thrilled by his choice of reading supplies (not only Batman, but Hellboy and X-Men, too).

I kinda really wanna draw him - so badly.

 

***  
Frank's POV  
***

Hi, I'm Frank, I'm 16 years old and I love music and comic books. Thats pretty much all you need to know about me.

We just moved into a new house in a new town. Who cares about the background? We're here now, that's what counts.

So, the usual stuff: I had to leave my friends behind in the town I grew up in, a town that's now two hours away by car. I haven't met anyone new yet, I don't really like it here and blah...

***

I decide (aka am forced to by my Mum) to go outside so I don't sit in my room all day and text my old friends, so I grab a few stray comic books and head outside. There are benches in the alley in front of the house, I think it might be nice to sit there and read for a bit.

There's a guy already sitting there, reading what looks like Stephen King. Great choice, I admire subconsciously. He doesn't seem to notice me and I'm thinking about going back inside, but then my Mum will throw a tantrum and I don't think he'll mind if I just sit opposite of him and read. I don't have to talk to him after all.

I pretend to read Batman, while I check him out. What? I have to know what my neighbours look like, right? Not too bad, I decide.

Actually he's quite pretty. He has long black hair that falls over his left eye when he leans over to read, so he blows it out of his face repeatedly, tucking it behind his ear in reflex even though it falls down immediately after.

His little stub nose is all red, like he's been ill recently and I think he might still be, going by the sweater he's got on in March.

Great choice of clothing, by the way: American Idiot sweater, black skinny jeans and black chucks. Makes him seem a bit less feminine than he'd normally be - I thought he was a girl when I first caught sight of him.

That's not a bad thing, though. He's pretty and he could definitely rock some make-up. Not that he needs it, no, I just think dark eye make-up would really suit him. He could accentuate his feminine side, without looking like a girl altogether.

And I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry, my brain just likes to short-cut a lot, especially when I see someone as pretty as my new neighbour.

Great, so I have the hots for my - probably straight - neighbour I don't even know and I'm already fantasizing about him in make-up. My day couldn't be any better so far, the only thing to improve my situation would be if he caught me staring.

Fuck, I've been staring! I bolt together and my Batman comic falls to the ground. I quickly pick it up and hide my blushing face behind it, hiding from the cute guy's look, who seemed to just have noticed my presence.

I want the ground to open up and swallow me alive. But that won't happen, so I play it cool and completely avoid eye-contact and stare on the picture of Batman changing into his batsuit. Nice batbutt by the way.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

The next time I see him is two days later. I just came home from school and totally didn't look out the living room window to see if he's there. He is though, so I get my sketchpad and pencil and sit on the bench on the other side of the alley.

He's totally engrossed by his book - of course, it's Stephen King, the guy's awesome. I think I might have read something by him recently... Could've been yesterday or a few weeks ago, I read too much to remember.

I bring my knees to my chest and balance the sketchpad on my thighs, stealing a look at the boy on the other bench every now and again. He doesn't notice, I bet the book's way more interesting than me.

We sit there until the sun goes down, my picture's finished and he's on the last page of his book. As the light gets less and less we both retreat to our respective homes.

 

***  
Frank  
***

The next encounter with him is on Monday. I had to help my mum with groceries and laundry yesterday, so I couldn't go outside. But I used the chance today and sat on the bench with a book right after I had come home from school.

I picked a Stephen King novel from the living room, I wonder if he'll notice? Maybe he'll talk to me about it, this shows that we have similar interests after all.

But I hope in vain, he only sits there and draws all afternoon and I can't gather up the courage to say something to him. What if he just wants to be left alone? Maybe he ignores me on purpose and doesn't wanna talk...

When the light finally gets too low to read and I finished the book anyway, I stand up and go inside, not even looking back, kinda disappointed the he didn't talk to me.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

The painting turned out pretty well. It's just a pencil-sketch, but whatever. I managed to get the glint of his lip ring in the afternoon light just right and the strands of his hair fall just like in real life.

It's honestly really sad that I have to be satisfied with an amateur painting instead of the real thing. And he lives right next door, too. (They moved in while I was sick, so I didn't notice.)

I didn't even have the courage to talk to him, I'm such a coward. But what should I have said? Hey, I like Stephen King too? I noticed you wearing a Misfits t-shirt on Saturday, I think they're awesome? Or: Hi, you have the nicest eyebrows I've ever seen on anyone?

These attempts may be not as lame as "Hi, guess I'm your new neighbour" but so much creepier. They make it seem like I stalk him, or like I think about him and his unbelievable eyebrows a lot, which I definitely do not do. I don't ever think about the perfect crease of the bows of hair over his eyes and the probability of them being like that naturally or if he maybe plucks them. I've never wasted a single thought about that.

***

I hope to see him on Tuesday and I'm not disappointed; he's there shortly after me, with a new King. He really likes the guy, huh? No wonder, he's talented. What's up with me and Stephen King recently? Is it just because some hot guy reads his books that I suddenly like him so much more?

No, I won't let anyone tell me what to read, actively or not, so I go back in, put my drawing things back in place and pick the first book in can get into grip out of the cupboard in the living room.

I sit back down on my bench and risk to take a look at my hot neighbour. He's got on jeans with holes over the knees today, along with a Green Day t-shirt. He really has a good taste in music.

I don't even know what I'm wearing. Black skinny jeans probably, and I think I stole a shirt from Mikey today, 'cause I was too lazy to go back down to my room and get one of my own.

The afternoon flies by so fast and I _really_ have to go inside and do my homework or Mr Walters will tear up my ass.

 

***  
Frank  
***

I bought another King novel after school today. They're good - they are - I've liked them since forever and wanted a new one for a long time. I totally didn't get it to impress my cute neighbour.

I'm also wearing this Green Day shirt today 'cause it's really damn comfortable and they're an awesome band and not because of his sweater choice. No.

***

He's outside again today, with his sketchpad. I wonder what he's drawing? I'll probably never know, because I highly doubt he'll show me.

Whatever, he looks good - as always -, black skinnies (of course... I've never seen him in anything else) and a Dawn of the Dead t-shirt that's a tad bit too small for him, so I can see a tiny flash of skin above his jeans. Could see, if I looked, I mean.

Shortly after he came outside, he goes in again and I panic for a short time. Did I scare him away? I may have looked at his stomach a little bit, that could be considered weird... It is weird. He's probably straight anyway and grossed out by his gay neighbour forever now.

Maybe he just wanted the place to himself and I intruded repeatedly? He might have noticed that I won't leave anytime soon so he just did. God, I'm too stupid.

But my concerns are unnecessary, as he comes back a minute later with a book in his hands. Agatha Christie, good choice. Fuck, here we go again... But I really like her books; we just have a similar taste, that's all.

I stare at the cover of his crime novel and not his face - no - and I notice for the first time that he put on make-up today. And a lot of it too. It makes him look even paler than usual and his eyes are surrounded by massive amounts of dark eye-shadow. He looks gorgeous.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

I couldn't go outside on Wednesday because Mikey forced me to go to the mall with him and his girlfriend. I guess he needed the support; she can be quite complicated. And she trusts my judgement in the matter of clothing more than my brother's, 'cause I'm gay.

That's bullshit, I know. I have the worst fasion sense in history, I mean just look at me. Women's logic, I guess. You know what's best about being gay? Being able to avoid situations like these.

Today though I sit outside with some comic books (that I totally did not choose because he reads them too) and ~~wait for him to come to me~~ enjoy the warm spring sun.

He's already sitting on the bench five minutes later and I played it cool and didn't look up at all when he opened the door. Didn't.

He's reading Death on the Nile, I can't help but appreciate his choice of books. It's like we're wired just the same.

He's wearing a Nirvana t-shirt today and I think by now I can be rather sure he's not one of those people who only do that because the shirt looks good, but because he really listens to them. At least I hope so.

I'm totally engrossed in Hellboy and do not see that he plays with his lip ring again. That's not disruptive at all. Who am I kidding? I totally stare at him all the time, because he's freaking hot, okay?

 

***  
Frank  
***

He's not here on Wednesday and I spend all day ~~waiting for him~~ reading and finishing my book.

I have more luck on Thursday. But when I see him sitting on his bench I don't hurry outside immediately, no I wait an appropriate amount of time before I stroll out leisurely. I do.

I try to ignore the thrill that runs down my spine when he looks at me. Bloody hell, I'm behaving like a teenage girl with a crush. Maybe that's not too far from the truth, actually...

No drawing today, reading: Batman. I wonder of you see Bruce's glorious ass in that issue, too. Okay, I really shouldn't think about my pretty neighbour and butts at the same time. My mind is going places it shouldn't...

 

***  
Gerard  
***

He's not outside on Friday, what a shame. I kinda looked forward to see him and read a bit and maybe draw him again. Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm a creep. Thank you very much.

I'm in the kitchen, cooking, while Mikey sets the table. When he asks me about my day, I just respond with "The usual".

This night we actually have a conversation over dinner. My Mum asks (it's a miracle!) if any of us have already met the new neighbours and I say that I've met their son, which causes Mikey to nearly choke on his food laughing. He knows about my opinion on him, because I tell my brother everything and I may or may not regularly swoon over _him_.

Mikey also thinks I'm a coward, by the way. But he won't talk to _him_ either because he thinks that's my job. He just laughs at me from afar.

"Oh, that's nice. What's his name?", my Dad asks and catapults me out of my thoughts  
"Erm... I don't really know...", I stutter and blush. Confused looks by my parents. "Never talked to him", I mumble, looking down at my plate.  
"Is he pretty?", my Mum asks and now it's my turn to choke. What's that about? My parents don't even know that I like boys!

"Uuhm... I... I don't...", I stutter, eloquently like I am, so Mikey chimes in, "Gerard thinks he's gorgeous."  
"Mikey!" The fuck‽  
"What? It's true."  
"Yes, but..." They don't have to know that.  
"Why didn't you talk him up?", my Dad asks.

Erm... am I the only one who's confused right now? My parents aren't supposed to know that I'm gay, 'cause I certainly never told them and I doubt Mikey did - I can trust him.

I just always thought they wouldn't appreciate it. Not that they would hate me because of nonsense like that, I was just afraid they... wouldn't like me as much. And I'm already second behind Mikey - understandably. I'd never have guessed they knew - let alone be so cool about it.

"Because he's a coward", Mikey responds. Fuck him, traitor.  
"Yeah, Gerard's always been that shy. It's gonna be his doom someday", Mum comments. "You really should talk to him, honey. Who knows what could develop out of that." What. The. Fuck.

"Uhhm, Mum? Dad? I'm a bit lost here. You do know we're talking about a boy... right?", I ask, just to make sure.  
"Of course, darling. We're not stupid", Mum says like she finds out her eldest son is gay every day.

"But uhmm...", I begin, only to be cut short by Dad.  
"What uhm? You thought we didn't know? Gee, we've known for longer than you have", he laughs.  
"Yeah, you've never really quite grown out of your 'girls are icky'-phase", Mum adds and chuckles. "And you always liked barbies so much more than action figures."  
So what, dolls are awesome.

"Do you remember his pink dress, Donna?", Dad asks. Pink dress?  
"Oh god yes, it was his favourite. Could barely get him out of it by the end of the day", Mum chuckles and I just sit here, dumbstruck while Mikey is having a laughing fit.

"Gee in a pink dress! I can imagine that so well. It'd really suit you, 'sister'", he mocks me.  
"Oh, you don't have to imagine", Mum says and disappears intot the living room. She comes back shortly after, with a photo album titled "Gerard, three years old" in her arms.

We look at it together - and really, most pictures of me are with a bright pink dress. On one you can see me at my third birthday, when I got it. I immediately changed clothes and ran around in the dress for three days straight before Mum could finally tear it off of me, as she tells us.

Another picture is of us - Mum, 18-month-old Mikey and me in the dress - at the zoo. I've got on a silver tiara and try to pet the rabbits, while some family in the background is giving me weird looks.

Mum smiles and tells us the story behind it - she seems so happy today.

"So, Dad had a free day and decided to surprise his family and take them - aka us - to the zoo. But before that he also bought you the tiara. You were so excited about it, because it went so well with the dress.

"We had so much fun that day... But then there was this family - you can see them there in the background - the father came up to me and asked why I let my son wear a dress, like that's some kind of capital crime.

"I told him that it's none of his business and that _my_ son can wear whatever he fucking wants to. Well, he was pretty pissed off and stormed away immediately, dragging his kids with him.

"But as they went away, I could hear the younger son asking if he could have a dress, too."

She chuckles again and we all join in, full on laughing after a while. I think Mum's never been that happy, at least not since I can remember. Still, the photographs show that there were better times once. Maybe it can get like that again someday...

"So, about that neighbour boy", Dad suddenly says, "I honestly think you should talk to him, if you like him so much."  
"I... I don't 'like him so much'", I protest and blush again.  
"You do, we all know. There's no point in denying it", Mum says and it sounds like that's final. And who am I to contradict?

***

The following morning as I sit on the bench with my sketchbook, my whole family is pressed against the living room window, trying to catch a glimpse of my ~~love interest~~ reading companion.

He reads Superman and I draw the scene, with my parents in the background as blood-thirsty vampires, lusting to drink up all my live energy, replacing it with embarrassment.

Just when I think it couldn't get any more awkward, Mum opens the window and shouts out, "Gerard, would you please come inside?"

Great, my Mum actively takes part in my life once in 12 years and of course somehow manages to embarrass me to the bone in front of my ~~crush~~ ....crush.

I quickly hurry inside, avoiding eye-contact. And all of that only to be told to go back out and _talk for Christ's sake_ because _he seems like a nice boy_. Mikey stands right behind my parents, not even trying to suppress his laughter. Why am I cursed with this family?

 

***  
Frank  
***

I have to go to a party on Friday - yes have to. I'd much rather spend my time reading comic books and looking at my insanely pretty neighbour.

You don't even know what kind of "party" it is I'm talking of. One my parents were invited to by neighbours of two streets away, with pianos and champagne and nice dressing and "appropriate" behavior.

I even have to go shopping with my mum in the afternoon to get a suit. A fucking suit.

Unfortunately this means I don't see the cute guy all day. Maybe tomorrow though. Let's hope so...

***

And yes, I've got time and he's there, drawing and looking over my left shoulder from time to time, god knows why. Maybe he's a shoulder-fetishist? I could deal with that if it's my shoulders he's fetishing about. (Yes, this word totally exists.)

Suddenly I hear a window being opened and a woman shout, "Gerard, would you please come inside?" The cute guy looks like he just was forced to listen to every Justin Bieber song ever made before he goes inside.

So his name's Gerard... it's pretty, suits him. Stalker-list, point one: check. I now know his first name. (And some - or most? - of his interests.)

Short time after, he comes back out and smiles at me, before he sits down again, opposite of me. Wait a second... did he really just smile at me? Like, honestly? Improvement!

 

***  
Gerard  
***

I go back outside and sit down on my bench, smiling at him, but he doesn't smile back, just like I expected. He looks kind of shocked, as if he's grossed out simply by the thought I could maybe try to talk to him. I really have to work on hiding my gayness.

***

This night as I lie in my bed I notice that it's now been a week since I first met him. One week already? Or just one week?

It seems like it was mere moments ago, but I also feel like I've known him all my life. Though technically I don't know him, I never even talked to him. I don't think I ever will, either. He's probably straight anyways.

God, why me? Why do I develop crushes so quickly? And why always on the wrong boys? The definitely straight ones, the uninterested ones, the oh so perfect ones...

That's when I decide if I don't talk to him tomorrow, I don't ever have to, because then it'll be too fucking late. It already is, I should've taken my chance back when I could.

When I first noticed him, I should've immediately spoken up. Should've told him I love Batman and the Misfits and that he's really hot and his eyebrows are perfect. Okay maybe not that last point. It seems kinda weird.

Why do I even think about that now? It's too late and I know it. Hell, I wouldn't have had a chance with him in the first place, so why sulk now?

 

***  
Frank  
***

I really have to speak with him tomorrow, or it'll be too late. Gosh, it already is. Why didn't I introduce myself when I first saw him last week? No, I just sat down without a word and wasted this perfectly good chance. My only chance, if I ever had one.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

This Sunday I go outside with my sketchpad right after I woke up, so at around 11 a.m. He's not here yet, and I doubt he ever will be again.

I scared him away with my open gayness; so obvious everyone notices, my parents, my brother, my classmates. God, my classmates... let's not talk about them.

But he does come back and even grins at me as he sits down. I smile back lightly and feel the heat rushing to my face immediately. Just when I start to say something - I don't really know what myself, quite honestly - he looks away again and starts to read. Well, fuck.

 

***  
Frank  
***

I decide that, fuck it, I'll go out there again today. And I will talk to him. Really, I will. Trust me. And it only took me three hours to make that decision.

I grab my now favourite Batman issue (don't judge me, I am gay after all) and step outside. He's already there and I can't help but grin as I see him halting his drawing to look at me - and smile back.

I want to say something - I really do - just anything would do really, but my mouth won't follow my brain's orders. It's like I lost all control over what I'm doing and so I just sit down and begin to read.

Maybe it's better thay way, who knows what I would've said otherwise? Something stupid, I'm sure of that. Like: _you look really cute when you scrunch your eyebrows, because you're concentrating so hard on your drawing_. Or: _I think you're the only boy I've ever met who can seriously rock heavy make-up_.

Honestly, he looks so good with eyeliner. And mascara and eyeshadow and lipgloss and who knows what else. I've always had a thing for feminine boys and he totally looks like a girl. I know that's weird, I am weird. And I'll probably never talk to him.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

He has a new haircut. Three weeks after we met (can you even say that if we still haven't talked till now?) he got a new haircut. It suits him though, he looks even better than before and I'd never have believed that that'd be possible.

His hair's now trimmed short at the sides and dyed red; the rest is still black and hanging into his face like before, and fuck... He's so hot, even more so now.

I stared again. Not that this is news to anyone by now - I do it regularly - but this time it's different; he notices. Fuck, he notices! I must've zoned out while I looked at his lip ring and he looks up from his phone and right into my eyes. Shit. Fuck. Shit. What do I do now‽

No time to panic, I just look back down at my drawing of a vampire with a lip- and nose ring and black/red hair (not weird, ok?) and try to act as if nothing happened. Try to act as if I'm not red as a tomato right now.

A few minutes later, I dare to look back up and see that he's watching me curiously. Fuckfuckfuck, fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck. I... fuck. He knows, he... shit.

I quickly scramble my things together and run into my house, into my room and flop onto my bed, screaming. I turn up Black Flag at full volume and just cry my heart out.

 

***  
Frank  
***

I wonder if he likes my new haircut? I hope he even noticed it, but you can never know. It doesn't matter anyways, he's not into me and probably doesn't even like me.

Or maybe he does, but in a _I can tolerate your existence and don't really care what you do as long as you don't annoy me_ -way. He probably just wants me to leave him the fuck alone. God, why am I so grumpy today?

I look up to at least marvel him from afar, when I notice him looking at me. And it's not that accidental crossing of sight that's awkward but normal, no, I think he's been... _looking_ at me.

Why? Because he looks away way too fucking fast and blushes furiously. Wait, does this mean he likes me too? As in... does he like me?

He doesn't, he can't... and now I'm staring again and he looks back up and into my eyes and his eyes are really pretty and he stands up and he runs away and... I fucked up, basically.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

Oh, fuck. He knows, he totally knows. I'm a creep and I stared and he saw and he KNOWS. He knows that I have a crush on him. He's gotta be so weirded out by his weird-ass gay neighbour making a move on him.

Though I technically didn't do anything, I just... weirded him the fuck out and I can understand. If I caught my neighbour staring at me like that I'd be disturbed, too (though I obviously wouldn't be, because _he_ is my neighbour).

***

I don't go ouside for days. Okay, obviously I do, to get to school and stuff, but I don't  _go outside_.

I spend my days in the cellar again, like I used to before. It's nice and cozy down here and I'm not in danger of making a fool of myself.

 

On Thursday I just can't keep it anymore, I have to get out of here or I'll go nuts. After I made absolutely sure he's not sitting on the bench I slowly go outside, always keeping an eye on his front door, so I can flee as fast as possible, should he decide to come outside.

I sit down in the sun and have a strech, yawning loudly. Quickly, I watch the door again, but nothing happens. He's not there, relax...

I manage to read about two pages of my new book, before I hear foorsteps coming closer, I see him walking towards me - not his bench, _me_ \- and am about to run inside as a strong hand holds me back.

 

***  
Frank  
***

He's not coming outside the next day, nor the one after that or the one after. Every day I wait on my bench for him - in vain; he won't show himself.

On Wednesday I decide to wait inside and look out of the window for him. I concluded he won't go outside while I'm still there, waiting for him. Not after what happened on Saturday.

I just want to talk to him and assure him that everything's okay, that I like him and I hope he feels the same. But I can't do that if he won't finally get the fuck out of his house.

***

On Thursday he finally - fucking finally - is seen again. He comes outside with a book under his arm while I watch him from my living room window like the little stalker I am.

He sits down and looks around nervously, then he streches and his shirt rides up all the way over his belly button, which makes me feel like such a pervert for staring.

Well, it's now or never, so I quickly go outside and walk up to him. He doesn't notice me until I'm almost right in front of him. But then he does and jumps up, heading for his front door, but I grab his wrist and hold him back.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

He spins me around by my wrist till we're standing face to face. Only now do I realise that he's really small - smaller than me. But he's strong and won't let me go too soon.

Oh god, he's gonna beat me up. He'll call me names and kick me and I know I deserve this, I know I shouldn't have stared at my straight neighbour - but I still don't wanna be punched again.

I shouldn't have gone out here, I knew it but I still did. I'm too stupid. I feel my eyes tear up and that's not good at all, because now he's not only gonna call me a fag, but also a pussy and he'll beat me even more and I don't want to... Before I know it, tears are running down my face and I couldn't stop them if I tried.

 

***  
Frank  
***

I spin him around and kinda force him to look at me that way. I know it's not nice, but otherwise he'll run away again.

We're up close for the first time and I can see him in all his beauty for once. He's really fucking pretty, especially his eyes. His eyelashes are extremely long and he put on eyeliner and red eyeshadow today, which are now running down his face like water. Wait what? Is he crying? Why is he crying? What did I do? Oh fuck.

I reach up to wipe away the tears from his cheeks and he flinches and closes his eyes. He whimpers barely audible as I touch his face.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

Oh god, I shouldn't cry, I should've tried to hold it back. He'll hit me, I'll be beat up again and I wish he'd just hurry up so we can get this over with.

He raises his hand and I close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact. But it doesn't come, instead there's a soft hand touching my face, rubbing away the tears. What's happening?

Cautiously I open my eyes and blink at him; he looks concerned. He comes to stand on his tiptoes, his hand still caressing my cheek, and I have no fucking clue what's going on.

That is until his lips softly touch mine and I feel like my legs just turned into jelly. It's short and sweet and perfect and then he pulls away again.

 

***  
Frank  
***

I don't know what caused this, but I actually just kissed him. I guess I couldn't stand to see him cry. But did I cross a line with that?

I'm now standing before him, my hand still on his cheek, and I can feel my face turning red. He finally smiles down at me and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me closer.

I take his face in both my hands and kiss him again with all my might, this time it lasts longer and I'm relishing it. He slowly warms up to it and starts kissing back more and more, pulling me impossibly closer until I'm flush against his chest.

I wrap my arms around his neck while licking over his bottom lip tentatively. He opens his mouth immediately and I slip my tongue in, emitting a moan from him. His tongue darts out to play with my lip ring for a while, before he moves his attention back to my tongue.

After what feels like an eternity he pulls back and smiles at me with kiss-swollen lips.  
"I should've done that a month ago", I conclude and he just nods eagerly, moving in again.

 

***  
Gerard  
***

I'm actually kissing my extremely hot neighbour - I still don't know his name, by the way - is this a dream? He didn't want to beat me up after all. Huh, strange.

And he's a really good kisser too, tangling his hands into my hair now as if he knows how much I love that. Another moan slips out of my mouth and is quickly mirrored by him, sending waves of pleasure down my spine.

Suddenly I hear frantic clapping and cheering behind my back. I detach myself from my counterpart and turn around quickly, to see my family standing by our front door, applauding.  
"Took you long enough", Mikey comments deadpan.

I feel my face heat up and look at the boy holding my hand to see he's not doing any better.  
"Uhmm", I breath out and my Mum laughs.

"Well, we'll leave you to it. But stay where we can see you", she mocks me with her finger raised.  
And gone they are, back through the door, but probably looking out the window.

"So...", I begin and he just laughs.  
"Your family's strange, just like you", he states and I know it's a compliment.

"I'm Frank, by the way."  
"Gerard."  
"I know."

~The End.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first fic I've ever had the guts to post. I'm kinda nervous and hoping it didn't turn out too bad... Who am I even kidding?  
> If through some miracle you've actually got to read this and haven't given up halfway through, please leave a comment and tell me what I could improve in the future.


End file.
